He yanked at the tie. It was no use, he was hopeless at this. A soft knock at the door and Fenton’s voice, “Boy? You decent?”
“Yes, sir.” The door opened and Fenton sidled in, closing the door as one or both of the girls ran past again, giggling madly. He sighed and shook his head.
“Well son, the food is cookin’ and the girls are primpin’ and,” he took in Chris’s suit, looked it up and down slowly, “Oh son...oh.” He stopped and looked down at his shoes, Chris was alarmed.
“Sir? Is something wrong? Does the shirt look too small? I can’t figure out this tie to save my life.” His words tumbled out, climbing over each other, revealing his growing panic. Oh God, he was getting married today.
The old man looked up and smiled, his eyes turned misty, “You look fine, son. You do. I was just...” he inhaled, let it out slow, “I was just remembering when I bought that suit for Isaac for his first job interview in the big city. Straight out of college and he was going all the way to the Big Apple.”
He shook his head, “Shouldn’t be sad about it. My boy landed that job. Workin’ there, he met the sweetest girl in the world to marry.” He smiled wistfully, “And those two lovebirds made three fine grandchildren to comfort me when he was gone. I just miss him, even now.”
He reached out and took the tie from Chris, looped it around his neck and tied it with practiced hands. “There,” he smoothed the tie and turned Chris towards the mirror, thumping him firmly on the back. They stood there silent for a moment, examining Chris’s reflection.
Outside the snow fell harder and the two men could hear Joseph running down the hall shouting that the van was there. “It’s nearly time. You take a moment, then come on out and greet our guests. Will you be all right son?”
Chris gulped, “Yes sir.” One final thump, and the old man took his leave to go and greet the reverend and the wedding guests. Chris realized he hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast, which was probably a good thing. Right now he felt downright nauseous. He closed his eyes, thought of his parents and Jess. Deep breath. Then he turned and walked out to greet everyone.
Days later he would swear that Christmas morning had moved at the speed of light. Looking back on it he remembered waking up, washing, dressing, greeting guests and the ceremony all flashing past in a blur.
The only true clarity to the memory was the beautiful stranger he had found kissing him back that morning. Carrie’s straight blond hair had been a mass of curls that ran from twists on the top of her head to ribbons of gold that danced on her shoulders. Her dress had been an ivory satin, a family heirloom, and it had clung to her hips and cascaded down to the floor. Peeking out from the hem were a pair of Liza’s hand-knitted rainbow socks and blue Converse tennis shoes.
“Something borrowed and something blue,” she had whispered to him, eyes twinkling.
Until she had spoken he had wondered if he were dreaming. She was beyond beautiful, beyond his ability to describe in words, a sweet promise of the years to come. The butterflies in his stomach were gone and he stood and they exchanged vows. He slipped the brilliant emerald and diamond ring onto her finger and kissed his bride.
Everyone applauded, Joseph and Tabitha bounced in and around them, and the snow fell thick and heavy.
It was Christmas Day. It was snowing. It was a white wedding. And Fenton even put his shotgun down long enough to give away the bride.
Home Sweet Cave
“You must plan for every contingency – enough greens, meat, grains, blankets, wood, even access to clean water. Without all of these, and more, you will find yourself in deep trouble mid-winter. Assume nothing, prepare for everything to go wrong, and you just might survive to see spring.” – Author unknown
They packaged the smoked deer meat in waterproof baggies and submerged them in the water. The stream was fed by an underground aquifer which produced ice-cold, clean water for drinking. This eliminated the need for boiling and kept the stored meat at an acceptably cold level. David had been right; they would need at least one more buck to ensure their survival through the winter.
Jess and Tina had gathered large amounts of grass and bulrush for mats as well as absorbent material for Jacob. The supply of diapers had long since run out. Jess watched her son closely, observed his habits and quickly recognized a pattern of elimination. This allowed her to fashion a handful of strips of deerhide for the outer layer of the diaper, with plenty of grass lining the inside and absorbing any waste at the times he was most likely to need it.
Throughout the weeks Madge urged cup after cup of milk thistle tea on Jess until she finally asked the old woman why. “It promotes lactation. You need all the milk you can make for Mi’-da-in-ga.” She cupped the baby’s head and cooed at him lovingly as she explained this. The infant stared back; his deep blue eyes intent on watching the old woman speak. “It also increases your circulation and builds your strength. He is growing well, Mi’-na, a healthy and strong boy child. He will make a brave warrior one day.”
Tina watched the old woman intently. She asked Madge about every plant they encountered outside of the cave until she could recite as many as David could. “Why you call her Meena, Grandmother? Her name Yess, not Meena.”
Madge smiled at the girl, “For the same reason I call you, Ni’-da-wi, my little fairy child. You with your pretty brown hair, when I see you I think of a garden fairy. I call Jess Mi’-na, which means oldest daughter, for she reminds me of my oldest girl when she was young.” For the old woman, naming the children made them family, showed her love for them. For a long time, Tina insisted her name was Ni’-da-wi and would stubbornly refuse to answer to any other.
By the end of October they had accumulated a large store of fish, which they smoked and then stored in the back of the cave. A small mountain of grass had been gathered, washed and dried. They used it to stuff bedding and also for absorbing Jacob’s waste. David had whittled several bowls out of a fallen log and they no longer had to share bowls. Jess and Tina had learned to weave baskets out of the reeds they had collected from the lake shore. Madge showed them where wild onions grew and they harvested basketfuls of nuts, and armfuls of sump weed and plantain.
The first week of November, David bagged another deer with his bow and he sent a prayer of thanks to its dead spirit. He wasn’t Osage, but if Grandmother Madge thought it was a good idea then he was all for it. It seemed respectful somehow, to give thanks to this enormous creature. Its meat and hide would help keep them alive through the winter.
Quincy had been with him again on this hunt, although she typically preferred to stay by Jess’s or Jacob’s side. In the evenings or during the day when Jess had to help climb a nut tree and shake the limbs for more nuts, the dog would stay glued to the infant’s side, whining softly moments before he stirred. At night Quincy’s soft whine helped Jess to wake and put a breast to little Jacob’s mouth before he was even fully awake. That way there was far less wailing to disturb the small group’s slumber.
Quincy was young, but she was an intelligent pup. David looked at the carcass of the giant deer and knew he needed help. He turned back to Quincy, busy sniffing the ground around the deer and said, “Go Quincy, go find Jess and Madge.” The pup looked up at him, gave one short bark, and plunged into the forest in the direction of the cave. He began the process of field-dressing the buck. He had just begun on the guts when the rest of their band arrived, Quincy leading the way. Their help made short work of it and soon the deer had joined the newest batch of fish in the smoke hut. “I said the words you taught me, Grandmother.” David said as they laid out the last deer haunch in the hut, “I talked to the deer’s spirit and thanked him for giving his life so we can eat this winter.”
The old woman stopped, it was the first time David had ever called her that, and hugged him close. “Thank you Min’-dse,” She turned and looked at the others, misty-eyed, “I am proud to call each of you my family. You honor the old ways and make me so happy.” She hugged each of them in turn and
kissed Jacob’s forehead gently. “Come, come, we have dinner to prepare for our mighty hunter!”
In November the temperatures fell dramatically. Madge taught the children how to weave screens of saplings and evergreens to act as a shield across the opening of the cave and reduce the chilly drafts. They built and maintained several fires to deter rodent invaders and increase heat in the living portion of the cave and kept large stacks of firewood near the cave entrance. If anyone wandered close they would instantly see that the cave was occupied, but in the long winter months no one ever did. Madge reminded them that the cave was far from any established trails, and it wasn’t marked on any public maps. The chances of discovery were unlikely. “Only members of my team know of this location,” her expression turned grim, “I fear that none of them survived to return.”
For the children it felt as if the world outside their cave had ceased to exist. A new world, full of family, simple food, learning, stories and laughter filled their days. The snow fell deep that year, further insulating their tiny cave beneath the drifts. Jacob rolled over for the first time around Thanksgiving and David improved his whittling skills. Soon they had wooden bowls, spoons of their own and even several two-tined forks. Jess learned how to sew deerskin hides and Madge taught Tina her letters and told the ancient stories of her people.
They celebrated Christmas with a feast and an exchange of presents. Jess and Madge had collaborated to create a small doll for Tina. Madge fashioned the body out of stiff cattail reed and Jess sewed on a tiny dress out of buckskin and then pierced tiny berries on a string to drape around the doll’s neck for a necklace. Tina was enchanted with it and created a sling for her doll similar to Jess’s and Madge’s so that she too could carry her ‘baby’ around.
David had whittled a small piece of wood into a round disk, engraved a rough ‘J’ onto it and pierced a hole near the top that he threaded cord through, turning it into a necklace and giving it to Jess. She hugged the boy and immediately put it around her neck.
Madge received a fur muff made of rabbit pelts (mainly from Quincy’s kills) and roughly sewn together by Jess. “To keep your hands warm, Grandmother,” Jess said, and hugged the old woman. Madge ran her hands over the fur, commenting on its softness, and managed a weak smile. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating well in the past week, Jess worried that the old woman was falling ill.
The old woman slowly stood, walked to the back of the cave and retrieved a hide-wrapped bundle and handed it with great ceremony to David. “Min’dse, you have proven yourself an able hunter. My people valued this ability highly. A hunter ensured his people’s survival in the darkest of times. Someday you will be a fierce warrior as well, and protect your family from harm. Listen, learn, and grow strong. Protect the ones you love at all cost.”
The boy’s spine straightened and he opened the bundle, examined each of the objects inside with awe. Madge had given him several of the dig artifacts – a spear tip, a stone knife, and an atlatl. The last object brought a gasp from Jess, for she knew how valuable these artifacts, especially the atlatl, were to Madge and the archaeological world. This was her work, part of the ancient history of her people, and she would not give these things away without long contemplation and deep regard for the boy.
It seemed strange though, the thought that the old woman would give such valuable artifacts to a child. It bothered Jess a little, as if there were some part of the story she didn’t know. For all Jess knew, the old woman might have the beginnings of dementia or Alzheimer’s. She said nothing; however, because she was distracted by the last gift to be handed out.
It was a field journal. Unlined paper, soft tan leather binding, and Jess saw that Madge had carefully written “Jacob” and then “Misae” was written under it and accompanied by a pictograph of a sun. Jess opened and recognized that the first few pages of the journal were filled with tiny writing. They were journal entries, the first one was dated September 19th, 2016, the day they had met Madge.
Jess looked up and locked eyes with Madge, who said, “I had a dream one day. In it, I saw a group of people walking west. There were adults, some children, even a small baby. Leading them was a handsome young warrior, smooth-chested, barely a man. When I looked upon his face it was like looking at the sun, blinding, hot. The rays reached out and lit the land before them with a blinding white light. I was not with this group, but I could see them and move among them.”
She paused, “I saw you, Mi’-na, but you were older than you are now, fully a woman. You cradled a tiny baby in your arms and a tall young man walked by your side. There were others, a handful of others, all of you walking through the plains. All of you connected by blood, by commitment, by love. A voice came then and said, ‘Old woman, stop your dreaming, go to the shore of the lake.’ And so I did.”
She smiled at Jess and the others, “And I met you that day. I had just begun this journal, and I have written in it as often as I could in the days since. Someday, you will give it to Mi'-da-in-ga, when he becomes a man. He is the white sun that I saw in my dream, Mi’-na. You will know the right time to give it to him.”
Jess took the journal silently. The leather was butter-soft, the papers rough and irregular. She realized that it had to have been made by hand. Madge added, “My daughter Penelope made that and gave it to me two years ago. It was the last time I saw her.”
Such a gift! She did the only thing she could think to do. Jess reached out and hugged the old woman close, tears leaking down her cheeks, and said in a whisper, “Thank you Grandmother, I will treasure it always.” Their embrace was interrupted by a squirming inside of Jess’s sling and temperamental wail from the youngest member of their group.
While Jess fed Jacob, Madge and Tina prepared the food for their long-anticipated Christmas feast. Venison stew, brimming with the greens they had gathered, and the corms of a cattail filled their bellies.
Before the weather had turned too cold, the entire group had hiked southwest several miles from the cave to a grove of hickory trees.
They had spent a day trekking there, gathering as many nuts as they could carry, and then trekking back. Jess marveled at the old woman’s cooking skills as they ate not just roasted hickory nuts, but also a type of bread, heavy and dense, made from the nuts and some kind of sweet/tart berries. A prized jar of wild violet jam, which Madge had made in her home in Kansas City and then brought with her to the cave, topped the bread. The sweet finish came in the form of hot chocolate, one cup for each of them, the last of the instant hot chocolate packets that Madge had squirreled away for a ‘special’ day.
“Grandmother, tell us a story.” Tina asked, drowsily nestled against her brother.
Madge smiled, closed her eyes for a minute to think, and then said, “I will tell you the story of the first moccasins.” She reached for Jacob and Jess handed him to her carefully. He was asleep and his eyes didn’t even flutter as he was passed from one set of arms to the next.
“There was a great Chief of the Plains who had tender, sensitive feet. Other chiefs laughed at him; the people of the tribe also laughed at the chief's discomfort. The medicine man, an advisor to Chief-of-the- Tender-Feet was afraid and troubled. Each time he was called before the chief he was asked, 'What are you going to do about it?" The 'it' meant the chief's tender feet.
Forced by fear, the medicine man at last hit upon a plan. Though he knew that it was not the real answer to the chief's foot problem, it would work. The medicine man had the women weave a long, narrow mat of reeds, and when the chief had to go anywhere, four braves unrolled the mat in front of him. One day, the braves were worn out. They carelessly unrolled the mat over a place where flint arrowheads had been chipped. The arrowheads had long ago taken flight, but the needle-sharp chips remained. When the big chief's tender feet were wounded by these chips, he uttered a series of whoops which made the nearby aspen tree leaves shake so hard that they have been trembling ever since.
That night the medicine man was given an impossible ta
sk by the angry chief: 'Cover the whole earth with mats so thick that my feet will not suffer. If you fail, you will die when the moon is round.'
The frightened medicine man crept back to his lodge. He didn’t want to die on the night of the full moon, but he could think of no way to avoid it. Looking down, he saw the hide of an elk pegged to the ground, with two women busily scraping the hair from the hide, and an idea flashed into his head. He sent out many hunters. Many women were busy for many days. The braves cut with hunting knives, and women sewed with bone needles.
On the day before the moon was round, the medicine man went to the chief and told him that he had covered as much of the earth as possible. When the chief looked from the door of his lodge, he saw many paths of skin stretching as far as he could see. Long strips which could be moved from place to place connected the main leather paths. Even the chief thought that this time the magic of the medicine man had solved tenderfoot transportation for all time.
One day, as the big chief was walking along one of his smooth, tough leather paths, he saw a pretty maiden of the tribe gliding ahead of him, walking on the hard earth on one side of the chief's pathway. She glanced back when she heard his feet on the elk-hide pathway and smiled. The chief set off at a run to catch up with her, his eyes fixed on the back of She-Who-Smiled, and so his feet strayed from the narrow path and landed in a bunch of needle-sharp thorns! The girl ran for her life when she heard the hideous howls of the chief.
Two suns later, when the chief was calm enough to speak, he had his medicine man brought before him. He told the man that the next day, when the sun was high in the sky he would be killed for his failures.
The Storm: War's End, #1 Page 24
